How An Angel Fell
by catycat010
Summary: One character muses on how she changed from a naive, innocent child into a bloodthirsty, evil Death Eater.  Nongraphic mentions of rape.


**How an Angel Fell**

(A/N: Hello! I know it's been forever since I've updated my main story, Visitor from the Future but I've kinda hit a major case of writer's block on it. Anyway, while I work on getting that back on track, I figured that another one-shot may get at least one of those other pesky plot bunnies out of my mind, thus allowing me to focus back on Visitor. I can only hope that's the case.

This is also my first attempt at a first-person, so…

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any canon characters or canon events. JK Rowling does. I'm just borrowing them.)

Did you know that people used to think of me as a "perfect little angel"?

They did.

When I was younger.

Growing up, I was like every other little girl: I liked tea parties, dressing up in pretty, frilly dresses, and the whole "skipping through fields of flowers" thing.

Shocking. I know.

My family and I lived in a large manor in London. The manor was actually only a few minutes' walk from the Muggle part of town. Even though I grew up knowing Muggles were inferior to me, that fact did not matter to me as a little girl. When I was growing up, I was actually friendly with a few of the Muggle children who lived near my home.

Only when my parents didn't see, of course.

I realized very early on that my parents and their friends despised Muggles, and basically anyone who wasn't a Pureblood. So, I made sure to only talk or interact with the Muggle children when I was sure my family wouldn't see. I became very skilled at hiding everything about myself that I wanted no one else to know about from everyone else.

There's a good reason I was in Slytherin when I was Hogwarts. Besides the obvious fact that I would never allow some stupid Hat to put me anywhere else. Except maybe Ravenclaw, but… I digress.

Even after I began at Hogwarts, even after I was smack-dab in the middle of a bunch of Traditionalist Purebloods and all around Muggle-haters, I didn't begin to hate Muggles and all those of less than Pure-blood until after my fourth year.

Until after Raphael.

Ironic that his name was that of one of the Judo-Christian Archangels of heaven.

He was a regular smooth-talking, charismatic, handsome wizard who seemed to be the "perfect gentleman."

I remember that I had never actually wondered whether or not he was a pureblood when I first met him. Which, considering my family, was strange.

It had been near my home, the summer after my third year. I was not-quite 14, and he was 19. Since I was still rather young, and, dare I say it, naïve, I was so incredibly flattered that he was being so nice to me.

We would walk around the shops near my neighborhood, and he would treat me to all manners of flattery, whether it was flowers, chocolates, a quiet meal at a nice restaurant, etc. etc. You get the picture.

Even when I returned to Hogwarts that fall, we continued to correspond by owl post. He was oh-so romantic in his letters, and only now when I think of it, can I actually see how he had cleverly and subtly manipulated me exactly where he wanted me.

Where did he want me, you ask?

It was during the summer after my fourth year. Middle of July, actually. We had been meeting at least three or four times a week, and Raphael was as charming as ever. Then, one evening, he informed me that he had gotten two tickets to an Opera in London, and wanted me to "give him the honor of accompanying him."

I don't even remember what Opera it was.

I desperately wanted to go, and so I convinced my younger sisters to cover for me. To ensure that my parents would not wonder where I was from around 4 in the evening until the next morning.

They agreed to help, but I could tell they were worried about me. Well, as worried as a 12-year old and a 10-year old, neither of whom had ever ventured far from my parents' side, could be of their 14-year old sister.

They were so naïve and innocent.

Like I had been, once.

Anyway, so I managed to sneak out of the house, in my prettiest Muggle dress, to meet Raphael.

First, he took me to a rather expensive restaurant for dinner, then to the opera. Throughout all that, he was the epitome of "perfect gentleman" I mean he had kissed my hand, had pulled my chair out for me, had held doors for me, everything. Then, he "so kindly" offered to "escort" me home.

I suppose the first indication I should have had that something was wrong was when he offered to take a shortcut to get me home faster. But, then again, I was a naïve little 14-year old who had never been on a formal date with anyone before, so…

I first noticed that we were, in fact going towards what was, and I suppose still is, referred to as the "seedier" part of London. Well, one of the "seedier" parts, I suppose.

I remember asking him whether or not he was sure he knew where he was going.

He had smiled at me, put his arm around my shoulder, and whispered in my ear, "Of course I know where I'm going, luv."

So we continued on, my naïve little mind accepting what Raphael had told me. After all, what reason did he have to lie to me?

However, when we had walked a little further, deeper into an industrial-warehouse district, I knew that he was not taking me home, and the fact that "he knew where he was going" was quite possibly a bad thing.

I remember trying to turn around. Suddenly, I found myself under a Silencing Charm and a partial Total Body-Bind, with Raphael's wand digging into my back, and Raphael whispering in my ear, "Don't worry, luv. We're just going to meet a few friends of mine. They've been wanting to meet you for a while now."

There were five friends. I don't remember exactly what they looked like, or what their names were, but I remember clearly that there were five of them. I also remember clearly that they each took a turn with me.

Throughout the whole thing, Raphael kept me under the partial Total Body-Bind, so that I couldn't move to defend myself.

I could basically only open and close my eyes and my mouth slightly.

And cry.

I remember crying through the whole thing.

I also remember the six of them laughing at my tears as they had a turn with me.

Then, Raphael decided to cast the Imperious on me, to get me to "pay" each of them back.

I couldn't stop myself. I had never actually been placed under the Imperious before, so I didn't know how to resist it.

All I could do was follow what Raphael made me do.

And cry.

After it was over, Raphael whispered in my ear, his wand to my throat, "Now don't tell anyone, luv."

I remember getting home, and collapsing in the bathroom, where I, while I had all the faucets running to cover the sound, sobbed uncontrollably in the shower, still in my dress, for an hour.

I never told anyone at home what had happened. I was too scared, I suppose, of Raphael coming after me.

So, for the rest of the summer, I never left the house.

Back at Hogwarts, I withdrew from everyone. That trend continued until I came back from Christmas Holidays, when I overheard two Muggle-born Ravenclaw girls talking about a story in the Muggle newspaper in their compartment on the Hogwarts Express.

A story about Raphael.

It turns out that he was the son of a wealthy businessman in London. He also turned out to have a habit of shoplifting from expensive department stores, and from stealing from jewelry stores.

That explained where he had gotten all those expensive "gifts" he had given me.

That also told me that he was a Muggle-born.

That's when I began to actively speak out against all those who weren't Purebloods.

So it should really be of no surprise that, a few years later, when word of a new Dark Lord who wanted to purify the Wizarding World came on the scene, that I was rather eager to join him.

My chance actually came from my sister, who had been recently engaged to a well-to-do pureblood who happened to already be working for the Dark Lord.

Cissy had known that something had happened to me the night I snuck out of the house to go to the Opera, and she had come to me, and told me that if I "wanted to be a part of the new organization to right the wrongs done to me by a filthy mudblood" that she was more than willing to make sure that her fiancée could arrange a meeting with the Dark Lord.

I jumped at the chance, and in a private meeting with the Dark Lord, I divulged why I wanted to help destroy the Mudbloods, who were threatening our world.

My Lord had thought that using Raphael as an "example" of how the Mudblood filth would destroy our way of life by ravaging our innocent pureblood women was a wonderful idea. So, as my initiation, I captured Raphael, who had been recently released from prison for robbery, and preceded to torture him at a Death Eater meeting until he was nothing more than a bloody lump of sobbing and twitching flesh.

I relished his screams, and his cries for mercy. It was intoxicating to me, and made me want to cause that pain to others. It was a drug, and I had almost immediately become addicted.

I remember, just before I ended Raphael's life, I said to him, in a mocking, child-like voice, "Now don't tell anyone, luv."

From that moment on, I was the most loyal Death Eater there was. I fully advocated My Lord's cause, and went on to marry another Pureblood Death Eater.

I thought of the Dark Lord as my own Savior. He had, after all, given me the means to exact revenge on the one who had so viciously violated me.

It should come as no surprise then, that when My Lord, in a shocking twist of Fate, somehow had been banished and had his body destroyed by some stupid halfblooded baby, that I was understandably upset, and wanted revenge.

I was convinced that that fool Dumbledore had had something to do with it, and that the old fool's little "band of merrymen" knew what had really happened to My Lord.

So, I along with three other Death Eaters, decided to "talk" to two of said "merrymen" to find out what they knew. The four of us were then arrested by the Aurors, and sentenced to life sentences in Azkaban.

The trial was laughable. Those ignorant fools from the Ministry tried to intimidate or scare us into breaking down and asking for mercy.

They really thought that a couple Dementors and some chained chairs would convince me to do anything other than tell the lot of them to sod off?

And they call me crazy.

I know that My Lord will return. It's only a matter of time, and then He will return, and free those few who were loyal to him.

He must. He is our own Savior, and I am his Dark, Fallen Angel, his most loyal servant.

I am Bellatrix Black Lestrange.

(A/N: I decided to write this –rather long- one-shot since I personally think that Bellatrix Lestrange is a far more complex character than canon has so far shown. While she is no doubt a despicable, sadistic, insane woman, I don't see it out of the realm of possibility that she has some sort of "cause" or "trigger" which led her to seek out becoming a Death Eater in the first place. This is my take on the "trigger". I hope you found it enlightening, or somewhat interesting. Please Review!)


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